After two days at sea, crossing from the Falklands, we arrive to the majestic landscape of South Georgia. Immense, rugged peaks, swathed in snow and ice rise from the ocean. Rivers of ice form vast glaciers that sweep down between the jagged peaks, to meet the water below. Shear drops of exposed rock form dark precipitous cliffs. Dark pebbly beaches create rocky ribbons between ocean and grassy slopes beyond. In some places, meltwater and debris have formed wide coastal plains, expanses of green and brown spikey tussock with pools of melt water and glacial rivers wending their way across. It is a land of tremendous peaks, snow, ice, rock… and wildlife.
The coastal plains, beaches, tussock slopes are filled with wildlife. Fur seal pups frolic in the surf, adults snooze on the shore and in amongst the tussocks, popping out at unexpected moments. Gigantic elephant seals slumber on the beaches, occasionally a half-hearted tussle breaks out as males get in some practice for the real battles to come. And then there are penguins. Gentoos in the main but it is the king’s that steal the show.
The first glimpse is of a pair standing regally amongst boulders and wood and whale bone debris on a small spit of pebbly beach near the mouth of a river. They ignore the fur seals raucously playing and splashing around them. The next landing there is a handful mingling in amongst a load of gentoos, again amongst the debris of debris of a stony beach backed with tussocky slopes.
The next morning finds us off Salisbury Plain and for the girl who grew up in Salisbury, England I have an extra little smile of whimsy. Rather than the chalk grasslands of Wiltshire, here is an immense flat plain packed full of king penguins, it is the largest colony with 60,000 pairs. Not that you could tell this day. Rather it is a maelstrom of tempestuous wind, salty spray and blinding snow. The wind howls round the ship, white tips of waves are whipped into the air even in our comparatively sheltered position, mixing with the snow in the air. Briefly the wind and snow shifts and we catch a glimpse of the shore, lined with penguins, apparitions that are quickly swallowed by another gust of wind, snow and spray, disappearing once more in the swirl of the storm. There will be no landing here today. And while there is a faint sense of disappointment something happens that sweeps that feeling away, whisking it off into the storm. Just below us, rafts of king penguins swim close into the ship. From the only open deck, a covered area with hazy screens we gaze down at fifty or so king penguins that circle and dive in emerald, green water, splashing through the waves. The wind streaks the snow and spray creating a dramatic backdrop of movement to these birds. It is entrancing to watch them through the elements.
The next day our location is Fortuna Bay. A wide bay, backed by impressive alpine peaks, precipitous cliffs, and enormous glaciers that sweep down to meet a long plain of tussock grassland and rocky scrapes before ending in a dark pebbly beach. The rising sun casts pink and pale orange light onto the clouds and snowy peaks and there is a fresh covering of snow left over from yesterday’s blizzards. In a clear sky some cloud swirls and pours over the gullies and cracks of the slopes surrounding us.
There is also an echo of history here, Shackleton, Crean and Worsley all traversed this immense landscape on their epic journey 110 years ago, and it is from here the last leg of that incredible hike begins, heading into Stromness.
A little later on and we land on the dark pebbly beach. There are hundreds of king penguins. Set against a backdrop of a now brilliant blue sky, dazzling white peaks and startling blue water, it is simply spectacular and I am moved to tears by the whole scene.
Penguins wander amongst us, standing along the beach and in the tussock, preening, resting, stretching their necks and body up and calling, making trumpet like loud bray, occasionally squabbling. More swim and wash in the water just beyond the surf, before riding the slight swell back to shore, appearing out of the waves like a god, Poseidon or Neptune. It is my favourite landing so far and I am not sure it can be topped. That was until we landed in Gold Harbour a couple of days later.
As with all the landings in South Georgia the scenery at Gold Harbour is immense. A curve of dark pebbly beach, leading to grassy slopes that are a greenish gold colour, backed by massive mountains with sheer cliffs of rock, snow and ice, and an immense glacier, a solid mass of white and blue, flows and curves around the peaks, hanging from the cliffs, and leaving a series of lagoons in its retreat. The water is a pale turquoise green. There are fur seals and a large group of male elephant seals all bundled together, but here the king’s once again take centre stage. 26,000 pairs. Stepping off the zodiac, it is a short walk weaving through small groups of penguins, until you come to a stop. There is no going any further. Beyond is simply a wall of penguins. It’s like something straight out of a nature documentary. They stand densely packed shoulder to shoulder, a mass of beautiful black and white, with flashes of gold. The sight, sound and yes smell is overwhelming. It is a joy to take photos, trying to capture the sheer mass of birds but also focusing in on the individual patterns, shapes and colours. At the same time I often find myself merely standing, soaking it all in, purely watching these beautiful birds in this beautiful place.
I am overwhelmed by the whole sight and know that king penguins will forever hold a special place in my wild heart.
Wild Barley 